


Burnin' Up

by hostagesfic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Ice Play, M/M, Shower Sex, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My hero,” Zayn says, shoving Liam over to flop half on top of him on sofa. </p>
<p>“Oof,” Liam grunts. “Hot. No. Stop.” </p>
<p>“Yes,” Zayn counters, propping his chin on Liam’s shoulder. “Need cuddles.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burnin' Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shescardinal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shescardinal/gifts).



> Sorry this is so late Amy ah!! Arguably this is food play? You be the judge. We had a lot of trouble titling this fic, but in the end p yelled when s made a JoBros reference, so this stuck.

Friday afternoon finds Liam naked down to his boxers on the sofa. It’s simply too hot in their flat for any further action or clothes. He and Zayn had made the decision together to forego a/c for the summer, putting the money towards their savings for a bigger flat in the fall, and Liam won’t regret getting away from their shoebox apartment, but he’s also convinced they’ll end up using the extra cash for the water bill with all the cold showers they’re taking.

Liam’s nearly asleep when there are footsteps in the corridor and Zayn’s keys scrape at the lock. There’s the chiming sound of soft laughter, muffled voices, and then the door squeaks open. Liam waves in the direction of the sound of Zayn’s feet, and Zayn snorts. Liam can picture the look on his face, the way amusement turns the corners of Zayn’s mouth up indulgently, even as he raises his eyebrows at Liam. 

But Liam’s eyelids are too heavy to look, and Zayn doesn’t come over, moving towards the kitchen instead. He’s not alone, and Liam can keep his eyes closed, the heavier tread and mumbly greeting enough to confirm it’s Ant. He hears Zayn open the fridge, the sound of bottle caps clicking off, and Ant says, “I’ll see you around, then.” Zayn nods, probably, and there’s the sound of their embrace. “See you, Li,” Ant calls, from the door, and it closes behind him. 

The flat is quiet as Ant’s footsteps lead off down the hall and then up the stairs to the next floor. Liam twitches when Zayn’s weight settles on the arm of the couch. Zayn’s like a cat, moving through the rooms without noise, and Liam’s used to the momentary shock when Zayn curls around him from behind at the stove or is there when Liam turns around in the loo.

Zayn’s fingers are soothing, twisting into Liam’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp with blunt nails. They almost feel cool, or at least less warm, and Liam arches his neck into the touch. Thankfully, Zayn doesn’t seem to care that Liam’s hair is damp with sweat, just hums and pets at the bristly bits of his fauxhawk. 

“Hi,” Liam mumbles, when Zayn’s fingers have slowed like the sleepy heat is contagious. “How’s y’day?”

Zayn makes a noise at the back of his throat and the sofa creaks as he stands up. That does get Liam to sit up on his elbows, looking up just in time to see Zayn’s grin as he shucks his shirt over his head and goes for his fly. 

Liam makes grabby hands and Zayn steps closer, knees knocking the couch, for Liam to undo his button fly and pull his trousers down. Zayn’s wearing white pants and when he turns to shimmy out of his trousers entirely and get his shoes off, Liam gets a good look at his arse through the thin cotton. 

“Ey,” Zayn says, swatting at Liam’s bicep as he turns back around and catches Liam at it. “You break you buy, you look, you...” he shrugs. “Something.” 

“Cook,” Liam suggests, “but we needn’t bother, I brought take out.” 

“My hero,” Zayn says, shoving Liam over to flop half on top of him on sofa. 

“Oof,” Liam grunts. “Hot. No. Stop.” 

“Yes,” Zayn counters, propping his chin on Liam’s shoulder. “Need cuddles.”

“Sweaty cuddles,” Liam groans. “Worst.”

Zayn somehow contorts himself sufficiently to dig his sharp elbow into Liam’s stomach. “Not as bad as jizz-sweaty-cuddles.” 

“Yes as bad,” Liam argues, raising his head indignantly. “Worse, no orgasms.”

Zayn sighs and closes his eyes. “What have I told you about using that word.”

Liam grins, and scoots against the back of the couch, pulling Zayn in against his side and nuzzling his neck, kissing up to his ear. “Orgasms,” he repeats, soft and ticklish, and Zayn flinches. Liam knows his nose is all scrunched up. “Orgasms, orgasms-” 

Zayn turns his head too quick to avoid, and bites Liam’s chin sharply. “Enough,” he says, when Liam makes puppy eyes at him, pouts. It only takes a moment for him to relent. Liam knows him too well by now. Zayn sighs and tries to look scathing. “Are we gonna or not?”

“Going to... have orgasms?” Liam can’t resist, and Zayn rolls on top of him, digging fingers into his ribs. It’s an invitation, more than anything, and Liam flips them easily, rolls his hips down against Zayn’s and feels how his cock is already plumping up in his pants. He grins, and Zayn groans and swats at his face. 

“You’re insufferable.”

Liam shakes his head, ducks and kisses the tip of Zayn’s nose. “You love me.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, and settles his hands on Liam’s hips. “For some reason.”

For all his intentions, and how good it feels, rocking his hips against Zayn’s, their waistbands catching and shifting, dicks slightly rubbing in their underwear, it’s still a million degrees in the flat, and Liam doesn’t really have the energy to keep it up for long. His elbows slip into the creases of the couch cushions and Zayn makes a grumpy noise at the extra weight but doesn’t shove Liam off. They stay, for a minute, plastered together, Zayn stroking the warm skin above Liam’s boxer elastic. 

“S’warm,” Zayn notes, and Liam rubs his scruffy cheek against Zayn’s chest, catching on his nipple. Above him, Zayn makes another displeased sound, but his hips cant upwards and Liam’s seen him come with Liam’s mouth on his abs enough times to know he doesn’t mind. It’s more that he’s antsy and doesn’t appreciate the tease without the follow up. 

Liam does _mean_ to follow up. It’s just- “too hot,” he mumbles. 

Zayn does shove at him this time, pushing at his hips and then chest as he gets his arms up. “Move over, y’great lug. Look.”

Liam goes readily enough, and Zayn falls half off the sofa in the maneuver but just fusses with his hair like it was all intentional. He trots off to the kitchen and Liam contents himself with staring at the ceiling and palming his cock. 

When Zayn comes back, it’s with a large slurpee cup, and he takes the lid off, discarding it and the straw on the living room floor and straddling Liam’s thighs. “Gimme,” Liam asks, quite nicely, because he can’t really think of anything better than cold cherry ice. Zayn just smirks at him, pinches his wrist when he holds his hand out. 

“Hands above your head,” he orders, and Liam sighs and moves them because Zayn is Zayn and he’ll do pretty much whatever Zayn tells him to at this point. 

Zayn takes a long sip of his slurpee and purses his lips, like he’s not swallowing. Liam’s about to make a snowballing joke when Zayn shimmies down, arse at Liam’s knees, taking Liam’s boxers down with him, and puts his mouth on Liam’s cock.

Liam, it turns out, had been very, very wrong. “Oohh,” he says, “oh, oh, Zayn, ‘s _way_ better than cherry ice, I-”

Zayn’s laughing at him, keeping Liam’s hips pinned so he can’t move as much as his body wants to at the sudden, jolting cold, and there’s red slurpee leaking out the corners of his mouth around Liam’s dick. He gives the head a nice long suck and lets go, licking his lips. “Better?”

Liam blinks at him. He genuinely has no idea what Zayn is referring to.

Zayn grins and takes another sip of the slurpee, swallowing like a normal person this time. “Are you still too hot for sex,” he clarifies, talking slowly, tongue touching behind his teeth. Liam can’t take his eyes off Zayn’s mouth. It’s all red. 

“Um,” he says. “Yes. I mean, no. Yes, better, no- yes. Yes.”

Zayn moves one hand from Liam’s hip and presses his cock up against his tummy, bends to lick from the base up to the head. His tongue is still a little cold from the last sip of the drink, and Liam shivers, hands kneading the arm of the sofa. He wants very badly to tangle his fingers in Zayn’s quiff and hold him down, but Zayn would probably grumble and possibly stop, and Liam’s not risking that for anything. 

The next touch of Zayn’s mouth is warmer, an open-mouthed kiss to the head, the tip of his tongue flickering at Liam’s slit, teasing out a bubble of precome. Liam moans and Zayn twists his neck to look upwards at him, grin. His teeth graze beneath the head of Liam’s cock and it’s just another burst of extreme sensation, has Liam closing his eyes and struggling to stay still.

“Fuck,” he breathes, as Zayn sits up to take another long drink, lowers his head. He’s not sure how Zayn gets his cock into his mouth without losing all of the slurpee in the process, but somehow he manages it, looks up at Liam with his lips pursed tight, mouth full of half Liam’s cock and cherry ice. 

It’s too hot and too cold at the same time, makes Liam want to cry and swear, and he might do both, if Zayn keeps it up much longer. He doesn’t, though, swallows the slurpee and tongues around Liam’s dick, taking him a little deeper. Liam shudders again, helplessly. There are goosebumps on his arms and legs, now, and his awareness of the temperature in the flat is narrowed down to the wet suction of Zayn’s mouth on his dick, whether it’s chilled or warming at any given moment.

Zayn doesn’t move his mouth from Liam’s cock again. Liam’s only vaguely aware of him setting the cup down blindly beside the couch, of the tingle of his cold fingers wrapping around his cock to feed it further into his mouth. 

Liam doesn’t realize how close he is until his thighs are tensing and he’s digging his heels into the sofa to shove up into Zayn’s mouth, cock going stiff. Zayn doesn’t seem half as surprised, simply bobs his head and draws back just enough to wrap his lips tight around the head and _suck_ hard, swallowing quickly as Liam spurts into his mouth. 

He makes a face and reaches for the slushee as he sits up, and Liam can’t help laughing at him as he swishes the melting cherry ice in his cheeks, puffed out like a chipmunk. Zayn laughs too, when he sets the cup down again, crawls forward to kiss Liam. 

Liam leans back, makes to say something, but his dick- still half too sensitive and stained red- sticks to Zayn’s skin, and it’s by an act of a higher power that they don’t both die laughing about it. Wiping at the corners of his eyes, he hiccups, “Zayn, Z- shower? To, um,” he waves down at himself and giggles breathlessly, “wash, and cool off. And I believe I owe you an o-word.”

“You _flop_ ,” Zayn rolls his eyes, but there’s sweat beading at his hairline again, so he gets to his feet, tangles his fingers with Liam’s. His cock pushes out obscenely in his pants, soaking through at the tip, and it’s way too fucking hot in the flat, but Liam’s a bit wobbly on his feet and his softening dick is still bright red, which keeps a smile on Zayn’s face as they stumble into the bathroom.

Zayn doesn’t wait for Liam to get the water on before he’s stepping into the shower, shucking his underwear and leaning against the far wall, hands rubbing at his thighs, eyes on Liam. “Li,” he murmurs, “c’mon, don’t leave me hangin’.” 

“Isn’t really han-”

“Stow it, Payne,” Zayn rolls his eyes, and as soon as Liam’s within arm’s reach, reels him in by the neck for an open-mouthed kiss. The water hits Liam’s back, raising goosebumps along his arms, and reaches Zayn’s calves, soothing. Zayn grabs one of Liam’s hands and brings it down between his legs, sighing when Liam wraps around him and gives him a few slow tugs, slicked only by the trickling water between them.

Zayn makes a hurt noise against Liam’s lips, straight against his tongue, and bucks his hips into the touch. He grips at Liam’s elbow and hip, fingers digging in tight to keep him close. The water is misting around Liam’s shoulders and he has to close his eyes against it, shivers a little inspite of how good the coolness feels after the heat. “Li, c’n you-”

“Huh? Oh!” Liam nods, lets go of Zayn’s cock to reach blindly for the conditioner. He knocks over a bottle of body wash in the process, echoing loudly in their tiny bathroom, and squirts too much conditioner into his palm, but it’s worth the moan that escapes Zayn, his head falling back against the tile, hips rocking to fuck into Liam’s fist.

His head aches from the crack against the wall, but Zayn can’t be bothered to worry about it at the moment. Everything is narrowed down to the slickness of Liam’s palm around his cock. Distantly, he can feel Liam’s legs pinning him in against the corner of the shower, feel the heat radiating off their bodies. Zayn whines, and his next thrust carries him up on his toes, forward into Liam’s chest.

“So hot,” Liam grins, tipping his chin to kiss at Zayn’s neck, sliding his fist around Zayn in time with his thrusts.

“Y’tellin’ me,” Zayn huffs, and Liam can hear the smile in his moan, breathy, when he presses his thumb beneath Zayn’s cockhead, moves up to swipe along the slit.

Zayn bows his head, forehead pressed to Liam’s shoulder, nose at his collarbone, and stares between them as Liam twists his hand and he comes, grunting and clinging to Liam. Stroking him quick and loose through it, Liam kisses Zayn’s shoulder, nibbles at inked skin playfully. The water’s still just this side of freezing, and it’s soaked into Liam enough that he’s shivering, has him wrapping an arm loosely around Zayn to steady him and reaching out to turn the heat up, just a little, just enough to be comfortable.

“Good?” he asks Zayn, nosing the sharp line of his cheekbone, kissing over his stubble.

“Yeah, fuck,” Zayn breathes, laughing a little, teeth chattering the tiniest bit. He’s still leaning into Liam’s chest, trying to leech the remaining warmth from his skin. He turns into Liam’s kiss and lets Liam lick into his mouth, sucks on his tongue and leans back, grins. “Feel better?”

“Much better, thank you,” Liam nods, looking down between them at his cock, still red from the cherry ice. “I really hope that comes off,” he frowns, already thinking of pink stains on his white briefs.

Zayn laughs and squeezes Liam’s hand, fingers fitting between his own for a moment before he steps back and sinks to his knees. “I’ll see what I can do, yeah?”


End file.
